If the student of the history of Christianity should be asked what was the most critical period in the history of Christianity, she would have many options. She could choose the era of the Reformation, which profoundly divided Western Christianity. Or she could choose the 19th century, whose missionary endeavors led Kenneth Scott Latourette to christen it the "Great Century." She might even choose the present era, with its explosion of Christianity in Africa and Asia. But all of these would be uninspired choices. The savant would recognize that it was the period between 400 and 600 that saw the most profound transformation of the Christian world. It is this period that is the subject of Philip Jenkins' latest work, Jesus Wars: How Four Patriarchs, Three Queens, and Two Emperors Decided What Christians Would Believe for the Next 1,500 Years.

These centuries are not well known to the average Christian. They do not have the clarity of the (commonly held view) of the patristic era. Nor do they have the sense of closure of the 4th century, during which Christians wrestled with the nature of the Godhead, concluding with a definition of the Trinity that is still recalled each time the Nicene creed is recited in worship. Rather this was the era in which the question of the person of Christ was passionately debated: What was the relationship between the humanity of Christ—so manifest in the gospel record—and the Christian belief that in Christ there was the eternal God?

At the heart of this debate lay two competing visions from two of the great ancient centers of Christianity. The Egyptian church of Alexandria—traditionally believed to have been founded by the evangelist St. Mark—reflected the philosophical vision of Plato. The one was the key and always superior to the many. God was one and hence the unity of the Father and the Son was paramount. The humanity of Christ, though real, was ephemeral. Just as Christians of this persuasion read Scripture by means of allegory, quickly passing by the literal meaning to discover the more central spiritual meaning, so too did they view the person of Christ. It was his divine nature that was central. In contrast stood the great Syrian church of Antioch. Though long associated with the evangelist St. John, they were in some ways more reflective of the picture of Jesus in the Gospel of Luke. Their philosophy was Aristotelian, where the meaning was in the details. They read Scripture not as an allegory but as a historical record. And for them the Scriptures revealed the full humanity of Jesus. The issue that led these two schools to clash was that of the Virgin Mary. Was it correct for Christians to refer to her as "Theotokos," the God Bearer, or more popularly the Mother of God? Alexandria said yes, Antioch said no, and the result was decades of conflict.

Neither Antioch nor Alexandria triumphed. The Council of Ephesus of 430 rejected the extreme claims of Antioch, while the Council of Chalcedon of 451 rejected the Alexandrian claims for a single nature in Christ (Monophysis) and set forth the "orthodox" view that Christ was one person with two natures (human and divine). This is the classic Christological doctrine still maintained by Roman Catholics, the Orthodox, and traditional Protestants. But in doing so, Chalcedon set in motion a number of other consequences. The first was the dividing of the Christian world. The Egyptian church (later known as the Copts) refused to accept Chalcedon, persisting in their dissent to this day. Wherever their influence was felt (such as the church in Ethiopia), there continued to be an alienation from "orthodox" Christianity. Similarly the church of Antioch (known as Nestorians) refused to kowtow to Ephesus. Finding no home in the Roman Empire, they moved east, and in the centuries to follow extended their influence all the way to China. The alienation of these two key provinces was a serious economic blow to the Roman Empire.

If one fruit of the Jesus wars was division, a second was a reshuffling of the powers of Christendom. The eclipse of Alexandria and Antioch magnified the influence of Rome and Constantinople. Constantinople, the seat of the Eastern Roman Empire, may have been the "New Rome," but ecclesiastically it had been a minor player. In the earlier councils it did not rate with the churches founded by apostles (such as Alexandria and Antioch). As a result of Chalcedon, it was elevated to become one of the major centers of Christianity, a status which it symbolically continues to hold even now. Likewise Rome's influence gained. The Western church played little role in the debates concerning the Trinity in the previous century, but it was Pope Leo's letter (or tome) defending the two natures of Christ that helped mount the surge at Chalcedon and solidified the role of the papacy as an office of doctrinal teaching.

Ultimately these Jesus wars led to a transformation of the face of Christianity. The alienation of Antioch and Alexandria, and the weakening of the Eastern Roman Empire, set the stage for the remarkable advance of Islam. Within two decades from the death of Muhammad, Antioch and Egypt (not to mention Jerusalem and North Africa) became part of the Islamic world. The old sees of Ignatius, Athanasius, and Augustine now heard the call from the minaret. Although Constantinople would not fall until 1453, the pieces were in place for the transformation of Christianity into a religion distinctively linked with Europe.

It is this tale that Jenkins sets out to recount. The author is better known for his studies of the reshaping of modern Christianity (perhaps most famously The Next Christendom), but he is persuasive in emphasizing that much of the later Christian world has been shaped by these struggles. He writes with the enthusiasm of an amateur in the best sense of that word, displaying a genuine affection for his story. He revels in the "might have been." If a solution could be achieved in the great struggles over Christology, a united empire might have succeeded in repulsing the Islamic threat. The center of Christianity would have continued to be in the Middle East and Asia. In this alternative world, the Latin theological tradition would be relegated to a specialty field for Eastern scholars, as Syriac and Armenian texts have been for Western scholars.

Jenkins is a master storyteller, and he enjoys recounting the vigorous and often violent politics that the debates involved. His narrative is filled with tales of scheming empresses, unmonkly monks, and powerful eunuchs. Many accounts of this period bring a reader to boredom. Jenkins never bores. He enjoys coining arresting phrases (my favorite is his description of certain monks as "holy head-breakers"). To enliven his narrative he makes use of modern analogies. Some of these work, such as his comparison of the intricate and complicated Christological discourse with the impenetrable language of postmodernism. At other times, for example when he uses the "holy hand grenade of Antioch" from Monty Python and the Holy Grail to lob criticism at the language of the creed of Chalcedon, the analogies are less than helpful.

If there is a frustrating element in the volume, it is a lack of focus. In Jenkins' earlier books, the thesis is clear and compelling; here, however, his concern for telling the story (or stories) gets in the way of his focus on the meaning of the story. He has a tendency to follow the passions and point of view of whoever he is reporting on, without stepping back and analyzing. One is unclear as to which of the many parties and positions Jenkins himself finds most correct.

Nowhere is this tendency more prevalent than with the question of theology. It is not that theological discussion is absent. But when theological issues are mixed with party politics, personalities, nationalism, and other forces, the reader wants to ask, What is this story about? Is theology at its core, or is it merely a façade for the real issues? This is particularly striking because one of the parallels Jenkins wants to draw is between these Jesus wars of the past and the current conflict between the churches of the global South and some Western churches. Here what one party sees as a defense of biblical orthodoxy the other sees as a political or social squabble. Having introduced the analogy, Jenkins owes to his readers an answer.

But these are quibbles. Jesus Wars is a rousing popular account of an era that has for weal or woe reshaped the Christian world.

Robert Bruce Mullin is Society for the Promotion of Religion and Learning Professor of History and World Mission and professor of Modern Anglican Studies at the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church. He is the author of A Short History of World Christianity (Westminster John Knox).

Copyright © 2011 by the author or Christianity Today/Books & Culture magazine.
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